he doesn't make you want to punch anything
by blueparakeets
Summary: Like, nothing at all, really hard or anything. Or, Karkat's moirallegiance with Gamzee. Even if your moirail does want to make you punch something. Like, really hard. God you hate sopor.


You believe wholeheartedly in serendipity, but you are still incredulous that it would have you meet your moirail by getting lost and kidnapped by clown cultists. (Well, maybe the kidnapped part was exaggerating. But your point still stands.) However you met, somehow you fell into a steady moirallegiance with Gamzee Makara of all people. For all his sopor addled oblviousness he calms you down easily, as if it were nothing at all. Mostly it's by making you mad at him instead of whatever bulgelicker has set you off, but every day you find your anger at him a little less true and more, you don't know how to put it, fond annoyance? (Gamzee would say that you'd never actually been really mad at him. You would say shut up.)

At least that's how it used to be.

As with nearly everything with Gamzee, it started with clowns and sopor. You don't know how the hell Gamzee never knew not to eat sopor. It's basic wiggler stuff! You know it's not Gamzee's fault for having a shitty lusus, but you still don't get how he never found out. You can't change the past, though, and somewhere along the line Gamzee acquired an addiction to substances that rot out your think pan. Maybe no one cared enough to stop him before, but you can't sit by as his moirail and watch him slowly kill himself. You don't actually know the long term effects of sopor, but you are certain they cannot be good.

So you did what seemed to be the only sensible option: get Gamzee off sopor. You weren't heartless enough to enforce him going cold turkey, so you slowly weaned him off. You allowed him five pies (his usual amount per day or two, how the fuck is he not brain dead already?), a perigee later four. Then three. He wasn't particularly happy about it but he went along even if you sometime caught him sneaking extra. You had to monitor the recuperacoon like crazy at first, and then you just resorted to emptying out his recuperacoon and locking the door to yours. (No, it was not just so you could cuddle with him at night. Okay, yes, it totally was. Shut up.)

It was working perfectly. Or at least as perfectly as you could expect. Gamzee's only withdrawal symptoms were being mildly cranky. Then you got him down to two pies per day and you stopped letting him sneak the extra ones. At first it seemed just like normal, but then, well. You expected him to be a little more grouchy, and at first that's all you thought it was. But his grin was off, and he was snapping at you with more venom than ever (more than ever because he never got mad at you) and then he went completely clown crazy.

He worshipped the Mirthful Messiahs before, of course. You never liked it, it was creepy as fuck (and maybe even weirder than the Cult of the Signless, but fuck no, you are not discussing that. You decided to forget they existed, even if they are the only reason you're still alive.) Still, then you could ignore it (with maybe the exception of Gamzee's block because you still aren't used to those clown posters.) Now he's gone full time devotee to the Mirthful Messisahs and he is being honest-to-gog terrifying. You at first tried to talk it out—he'd never turned down a feelings jam before. You were so upset over it you didn't push the issue Past You is such a nookwhiffer. He's been avoiding you and now you think it might be too late, you don't even know if you're moirails anymore.

You can deal with that, though. Not so much with murderous rampages. All you want is your nice, useless Gamzee back. (Although that's not even what you want. Is it so much to ask for your moirail to not be insane or high?) Highblood tendencies to violence are extremely common, you knew that already. Look at Aradia, indigo like Gamzee, and all her revenge killings (for fucking ghosts you're not sure even exist), or maybe Terezi and Vriska's pir8ing/PR1V4T33RING bloodfest. You thought Gamzee was an exception.

Turns out he was just high all the time.

Still, he's your moirail. You can't abandon him. (And it's your fault, too; you're the one who got him off sopor.) But he's going too far, and you're not sure you can stop him. Even if they are kismeses you don't like what he did to Terezi (you're sort of glad you and her are no longer a thing because your moirail's kismesis being your matesprit is one of the classic set-ups for tragedies.) And Nepeta and Equius, too, they defended themselves just fine but that doesn't make it in the slightest okay that he would even try to kill them. And also, what are you, a highblood romance magnet? Your moirail's indigo, your ex-matesprit is violet and Nepeta has that awkward crush on you and she is fucking _tyrian._ You're an offspectrum freak.

No. You agreed not to hate yourself for your blood, at least.

Because of Gamzee. You have to get him to calm down. You owe him, and you love him, and you cannot stand to see him like this. If he goes on like this for much longer, someone's going to get revenge on him. You had a hard enough time trying to get your friends to give him a chance. And culling highbloods for being a danger to the Empire is extremely rare but at the rate Gamzee's going to—

Thinking like this isn't going to help. You have to fix this, now. -

You don't know where the fuck Gamzee went. You hate trekking through this god-awful forest. -

When you find him there is a blood head dangling from his hands. _Fuck._ And he's gained an audience of five, all with weapons drawn. He turns and sees you and you don't like that smile and you really don't like that look in his eye. He raises his clubs at you. You realize how far he's come from the Gamzee you know. Does he even recognize you? Fuck.

And you realize you said that out loud—or at least the expletive—and his club lowers just barely an inch. You don't even think. Somehow your hand shoots out of its own accord and _pap_. And then you _shoosh_ him, and the clubs drop (you are not seriously giving those fuckers over there a pale porn exhibition, you think, but then you stop caring.) A few more shooshes and paps and the crazy look in his eyes is gone. You both dissolve into a pale mess of hugs and _shhhh_s and you should find a pile. Urgh, Gamzee's hair is gross and matted and you really should force him to take a bath—and then you're flooded with dirty pale thoughts. You manage to drag the both of you back to your hive. (The five trolls have since scattered.) You are going to jam these feelings. -

You wake up in your recuperacoon feeling better than you have in ages. You still have problems to deal with, sure, but you're sure now you can sort them out. For now you're going to lie in your moirails arms. Fuck doing anything today, you are going to stay like this forever. (Even if Gamzee's breath kinda stinks.)

At least for once his hair is clean.

_Fin_


End file.
